


in one fell swoop

by Itabane



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexuality Spectrum, Demisexual Neil Josten, Demisexuality, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Post-Canon, Post-The King's Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itabane/pseuds/Itabane
Summary: On one of his bad days, Andrew finds out Neil really doesn't swing.
Relationships: Neil Josten & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 23
Kudos: 644





	in one fell swoop

**Author's Note:**

> quarantine is horrendous and i have fallen into the aftg hellhole. i regret nothing.

For the longest time, Neil had thought people were either lying about it or exaggerating, whenever he’d had enough time or attention to spare to even think of it. Even when his mother is no longer here, no longer breathing down his neck, ready with a heavy hand to make sure he’s not compromising himself or their safety, even with the hard-won freedom of the Foxhole Court and its inhabitants, Neil just doesn’t think about it.

Kissing had never been a particularly pleasant affair or even something to waste time to fantasize about, whether it be with a girl, a boy or neither, only half because of the beatings he’d gotten afterwards for allowing it to happen. Jerking off is a chore, his libido something to be ignored until it starts distracting him too much, and taking care of it is dull, both too fast and yet somehow much too slow to happen. He spends most of the time when his hand is down his pants thinking about planning travelling routes and refreshing contacts, what he’d rather be doing, and how much time he’s wasting on something so boring.

Whenever he says ‘I don’t swing’, he’s treated with disbelief and pity and pushiness, like his non-existent drive to get covered in other people’s fluids is yet another part of him broken by other people that needs fixing, rather than something he doesn’t understand or crave. He still insists on saying it, because he’s discovering who Neil Josten is slowly but surely, and this is one piece of himself he knows and has thought about, and he doesn’t want to let it go to make other people more comfortable with his existence. And anyways, even with their continued disbelief over his lack of interest in sex, the Foxes give him so much more than he’d ever expected to get; exy, friends, freedom, _Andrew._ Andrew gives him the most – a home, someone to trust, and later a _nothing_ that he knows he never wants to lose.

A lot of things about Andrew are sharp or hidden, but Neil wants to learn them all and tuck them close to his heart, like the way he always sleeps with brightly coloured socks on and how he always kicks off one of them by the monring, like the way he always steps on the cracks in the pavement. Andrew is the kind of person that Neil can understand people being attracted to, the only one he can _get_ being attracted to, because Andrew is _Andrew._

Allison had made fun of his ‘two-track mind’ once, but she’d been right – only Andrew and exy (and so the Foxes) manage to make Neil Josten feel less like a mask, feel like an actual, living person. Andrew is never gentle, but always careful, knows Neil so well that sometimes he gets dizzy when he remembers he’s known so completely. The only thing Neil can do in response to it is know Andrew just as well in return; finding out what he likes and how he feels about things through trial and error and nights spent on the rooftop, talking and smoking and standing in silence. Neil would do anything for Andrew; and he’s such a striking person anyways that when he asks ‘yes or no’ Neil never thinks to say no because that’d never been a viable answer and never will be.

* * *

For all his insistence that _this is nothing_ and _I hate you_ and other assorted phrases Neil is slowly learning how to understand and respond to, Andrew had never broached the ‘I don’t swing’ comments Neil had made in the beginning. So it’s a surprise, after one of Nicky’s (mostly) innocent remarks ( _a gaping mouth and a ‘I knew it! God, you two are so gay!’ when he’d walked on them kissing_ ) and Neil’s subsequent response, that Andrew suddenly withdraws into himself, doesn’t let Neil enter the same room as him, doesn’t answer when Neil tries to call him. Neil is confused, but not hurt – Andrew shutting everyone off when he’s having a bad day is not exactly news, and though Neil is usually allowed closer than the others, he’s more than ready to give Andrew all the space he needs.

* * *

The Foxes get progressively tenser as the week drags on and Andrew’s mood becomes even worse. Once or twice Nicky and Matt have tried to ask, but Neil makes sure to with a firm “We’re fine.” It’s none of their business to know anything about Andrew’s bad moments or even deal with them, and it doesn’t harm their teamwork no matter what Kevin is continuously trying to insinuate so they have no right to meddle in it.

Still, this particular series of bad days is stretching out more than normal, and no matter how much Neil tries, he can’t stop the worry that festers under his skin. Feeling helpless has always been an infuriating thing, a weakness Neil had done his utmost best to kick to the curb, but seeing Andrew spiraling and not getting better has him itching to pick up the phone and ask Betsy Dobson if Andrew’s trust in her psychological competence is truly justified. He’d never do it, of course, but the thought being there is like an annoying niggle in the back of his head, just sharp enough to cut him whether he approaches it or not, and by Friday Neil finds himself running for hours on end, before and after practice.

Andrew is in their room when he finally gets back to the dorms, sallow-skinned and dead-eyed, and Neil immediately prepares to move out of the way of the only exit; the last few days, everyone had been roughly shouldered if they stood inbetween Andrew and a door while Neil was in the room.

Andrew pins him with an intent stare, something dark and foreboding in the set of his jaw as he slowly starts walking towards the door. His hands by his sides are clenched so tightly they’ve turned white; blue and purple veins in stark contrast. Neil automatically moves out of the room to let him exit, and can’t help but trace the deep shadows under his eyes as Andrew passes him.

He’s expecting the same interaction as the last five times this has happened, namely being thoroughly ignored, so he’s surprised when Andrew grits out a, “Roof,” without turning back, sounding like the syllable is sticking glass shards through his throat. Neil hesitates only for a second, and trails after him at a respectable distance.

* * *

Their trek to the top is uninterrupted, which Neil appreciates even on good days, but today especially there’s something ugly in the silence between the two of them and he doesn’t want anybody to make remarks about it.

Andrew slams the door to the rooftop open like he’s trying to will it out of existence, and stalks to the very edge of the building in just a few wide steps. By the time Neil catches up to him, a good two meters between them just to be sure, he’s smothering his first cigarette into the concrete and pulling out another one. Neil’s not offered one, and he doesn’t ask for it; Andrew has decided to do whatever he’s decided to do, and Neil will grant him as much space and time to do so as possible.

After a few quick, angry drags, Andrew stubs this cigarette out as well and turns to face him with something really close to murder in his eyes. Neil hasn’t seen that look directed at him in a while, since before that Christmas he’d spent in Evermore in freshman year, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it startles him. That look had been for threats, for unknown variables, for people Andrew wanted gone or didn’t care about at all, and while Neil had fit in all four categories at the time, he’s reasonably sure he doesn’t do so anymore.

After what feels like an eternity staring at each other, Andrew grits out a near silent, “Do you get the definition of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ or should I assume it’s about the same as your understanding of how the word ‘fine’ works?”

Neil feels his mouth open slowly, trying to figure out what exactly is going on. Andrew _never_ speaks about their encounters outside of when they’re happening, except in some very rare cases when something new is involved. The yes or no portion of it makes it very clear that it’s about sex, and that somehow, along the way, Neil has fucked up.

“I don’t understand,” Neil says in the end, stopping himself from tacking on an ‘ _I’m sorry’_ at the end. Normally Andrew just scoffs or mutters a derisive, ‘ _of course_ ’ and then explains, but this time his face darkens even more and his hands twitch in what Neil knows to be a strong urge to hit something.

“You don’t swing,” Andrew snarls, and Neil, miraculously, needs only a couple of seconds for it to click, before his heart sinks down to his heels and the blood leaves his face.

“I– What? Andrew, _no_!” Andrew’s shoulders are almost up to his ears, and Neil’s never seen him more tense in all of the three years he’s known him. Something suspiciously close to either bile or tears starts tickling at the back of his throat, so he unsticks his numb tongue from the roof of his mouth and continues, “I never– it’s always been a yes, with you. I would _never_ lie about that.”

Andrew doesn’t look reassured at all. Neil gulps, takes a deep breath, ignores the wild, off-rhythm beating of his heart and tries to organise his thoughts the best he can.

“Before I met you,” he begins slowly, making sure he keeps eye contact, “I’d never gotten the point of sex. I thought it was just something people exaggerated to make themselves more interesting, when I thought about it at all. Kissing other people never felt good.” Neil exhales shakily, and continues when Andrew doesn’t interrupt, “Kissing you is nothing like kissing other people. Having sex with you was never, is never, something I don’t want, not after I started to get to know you. It makes me feel really good. _You_ make me feel really good.” Andrew twitches. “If something was ever wrong, I’d have told you, because I promised.”

Andrew scoffs, something ugly still hiding in the downward curve of his mouth. “The man who claims he doesn’t swing says always yes?” His voice is mocking, and Neil is eerily reminded of the times when Andrew’d been drugged up to the gills, floating on cloud nine and casually wielding cruel words like a sharp knife.

“I have times when I don’t want to do anything,” Neil admits with a shrug more casual than he necessarily feels about the admission. He’d struggled with that situation for a bit before shoving it in the back of his mind, because all of the times he hadn’t felt up for more – for anything, sometimes – Andrew hadn’t been in the mood for it, either, so it’d worked out nicely. He says as much, and going by Andrew’s expression it’s not exactly reassuring even if his shoulders drop a little.

“If you’re lying–”

“I’m not,” Neil says firmly, and then repeats it just to be sure. “Andrew, you might call me a martyr but I’d never–” _hurt you like that._ The words get stuck in his throat, suddenly too emotional for the _nothing_ they have. Neil licks his lips, changes track. “It might happen, when you’re in the mood and I’m not, someday. And then I’d tell you, and you’d respect that. But – even if something ends up being a no, Andrew, you’re always going to be yes.”

Neil only realises he might have said something even more emotional than what he’d been going with previously when Andrew stills completely, gaze piercing and hands twitching at his sides. It’s too late to take it back, not that Neil would particularly want to, so he lifts his chin and lets Andrew search in his face for traces of a lie he won’t find.

The tension in Andrew shifts, changes; “Yes or no,” He grits out, eyes a little wider than normal, and Neil is gasping out a yes before Andrew’s lips finish forming the question. Andrew’s crossed the two meters between them in a flash, dragging him closer with a hand in the loose collar of his shirt and stopping just before they collide, only millimeters between the two of them.

“ _Yes,_ Andrew,” Neil repeats quietly, lips brushing against each other, and then Andrew’s closed the last of the distance between them, Andrew’s insistent mouth over his own, his warm palm heavy on the back of Neil’s neck.

Neil immediately melts against him, hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans. A lick over the seam of Neil’s lips, and he opens them with something between a hum and a whine, pressing closer to Andrew but taking care not to actually touch him. As if in response, Andrew kisses him harder, traces his other hand down Neil’s arm and loosely wraps his fingers over his wrist.

“Yes or no,” Andrew asks right over Neil’s lips, and he has to fight not to shiver.

“ _Yes,_ ” Neil hisses out, and Andrew’s mouth moves slowly over the edge of his jaw, bites just under it and makes Neil gasp. The hand holding the back of Neil’s nape slides up to tangle in his hair and tilt his head to one side, and the one holding his wrist slips in his back pocket and Andrew intertwines their fingers carefully while sucking a mark under his ear. Neil groans and grips Andrew’s hand tighter, the warmth of it sending sparks skittering through his entire body. “Closer?” he asks, voice cracking.

Andrew hums just where Neil’s neck meets his shoulder, and pulls him forward until their fronts are touching. Neil can feel the slightly faster than normal rise and fall of Andrew’s chest, his rapidly beating heart, and something hot hooks in his belly and pulls, twists. With immense difficulty, Neil flutters his eyes open, presses a tiny pucker of a kiss on the crown of Andrew’s head, hiding it in gold-spun strands.

“283%,” Andrew mouths against the column of his throat, and Neil can’t help the shiver that crawls up his spine. He ducks his head down, angling for another kiss that Andrew graciously grants him, this one slower but no less intense. His tongue is slick against Neil’s as he slides it in his mouth, and Neil sucks on the tip of it just slightly. Andrew’s breath hitches, and his hand grasps Neil’s tight enough to hurt.

They break apart with a quiet smack. “Junkie,” Andrew mutters, and pulls on Neil’s hair when he goes to kiss down his neck. “With a neck fetish.”

“With an Andrew fetish, actually,” Neil cheekily answers, and sucks lightly on the pale, freckled skin under his lips before Andrew can snap back something more scathing. Andrew’s back goes rigid, but he pulls Neil closer instead of saying anything, wedging a thigh between Neil’s.

Neil hums. “You wanna?” He slides his legs open to illustrate what he means. Andrew’s huff ruffles his hair.

“Not now,” he answers after some deliberation. Neil hums again.

“Want me to stop?”

“ _No._ ”

Neil tries to hide his smug smirk in the crook of Andrew’s neck, but going by the sharp pull of hair that gets him, he’s not at all successful. He slides his mouth upwards, nibbles the soft spot just behind Andrew’s ear, not enough to bruise but just to be felt, and is rewarded by another hitched breath. The hand in his back pocket presses into his butt as if he can wiggle any closer to Andrew than he already is.

“What do you think,” Neil says, pressing small kisses down and across Andrew’s neck, “should I start saying I swing only for you?”

“ _Shut up,_ ” Andrew hisses out, and then: “287%.”

“Make me,” Neil talks back, and then he’s not able to talk much at all.

* * *

(He does say just that, the next time someone comments on their ‘inherent gayness’ or whatever it’s supposed to be called. Nicky’s face is priceless. Allison loses a lot of money because nobody’d actually bet on that, and her bet on him being gay is no longer considered valid.

“I’m only forgiving you for that because you’re adorable, Neil,” she tells him, very seriously. “But also, you have to go shopping with me for the next three weeks.”

When Andrew sees him in his newly bought clothes, he drives them to Columbia immediately, nevermind it’s Monday tomorrow, so Neil supposes he should be thanking Allison, even if she _does_ comment on the hickeys crawling up his throat when they get back.)

**Author's Note:**

> let neil josten use the metric system because he lived in europe for half his life and is also british 2k20
> 
> Scream with me about fandom stuff on [Tumblr](https://13reasonstoeatthatcake.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/keisbullshit)


End file.
